


Remember when I was gold

by Anonymous



Category: Gold - Ria Mae (Music Video)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Case Fic, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Jukebox Fest 2018, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Undercover Cop/Suspect relationship, Undercover Missions, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-29 00:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lisa Adams is a drug dealer, pushing her ambitious creation known as Gold—a drug that makes users breathe golden smoke—to patrons of Spellbound, the nightclub she manages. Agent Mae of Vice squad is entrusted with an undercover operation: gather evidence of Adams’ crimes before an arranged bust of Spellbound’s premises. It all seems pretty straightforward, until feelings get involved. Then, it really, really isn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Panny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panny/gifts).



> Thank you so much for requesting this music video; I fell in love with it immediately. I hope this fic is RTYI and you have a great Jukebox Fest 2018!
> 
> For anyone looking for the video, you can find it here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JV1c0mHb7w (I found Lisa's first name on the video's IMDb page.)
> 
> This fic isn’t particularly dark and focuses on the undercover relationship more than some of the above tags, but I wanted to make sure no reader gets an uncomfortable surprise at any point, so I’ve tagged as much as I can. Thank you within_a_dream for the beta, especially with catching my Briticisms!

“I hope I don’t have to remind you all that _this_ is what happens when people OD on this shit,” Harris said, holding up the photograph and forcing everyone to look up from their coffees. Perhaps he expected his officers to be more alert, but it was early, and the case was dragging.

Ria’s gaze fell to her file; scare tactics wouldn’t motivate her more than she already was to rid the world of Gold. She knew what the drug was capable of and didn’t appreciate the ugly reminder. Like most narcotics, if you took too much—all at once or over an extended period—you came out the other side damaged one way or another. You couldn’t work for Vice without seeing that damage up close every day.

“Time’s running out for us,” Harris continued, throwing the photos onto the table. “But, we’ve had a breakthrough, thank God.” That got everyone’s attention. “Thanks to a very interesting recording made by one of our informants, we have a date for a deal between Adams and Paul ‘Butcher’ Brown. This is our chance to finally nail Adams, and Butcher, if we get it right.”

As Harris knocked back his coffee, Ria skimmed through her file for the new information. The first page contained the familiar photograph of Lisa Adams—their target, the inventor and main dealer of Gold—and her profile. Ria’s investigations contributed to the profile, as had those of her colleagues sharing the table; she’d spent weeks observing her. Skipping over new analysis of Adams’ public social media activity, she found the transcript of the informant’s recording.

“Adams will hand over five thousand bottles of Gold at the Spellbound nightclub on June fifteenth, three weeks from today.” Harris rolled the whiteboard to the end of the table. The case information it displayed was rearranged, making room for a map. “Five thousand is not Adams’ MO. She keeps her head down, trades in small batches with people she knows and trusts, so we’re hoping she’ll slip up by cutting corners to meet Butcher’s demand. Even if she doesn’t, we’ll arrest the bitch once money’s changed hands, but we need more to push things beyond reasonable doubt once this hits trial.

"Mae, your surveillance has been indispensable, but I want you to get close to her now. We need physical evidence, whatever you can get your hands on, and a taped confession. I want you undercover as soon as possible. Up for it?”

“Yes, sir.” The fact she’d been trusted with an undercover after what happened last time was nothing short of a miracle; she thought she’d be stuck with the boredom of surveillance—and the aching wrists from that damn telephoto lens—until retirement. A few of the officers sat opposite gave her a disapproving look, as though doubting Harris’ choice. She’d prove them wrong.

“Great. We’ll get you in the field as soon as possible.” Uncapping a black marker, Harris drew a circle around Adams’ apartment on the map, and then another a block away. “You’ll operate from here. Should you get close, we’ll have someone cover you to ensure your safety.”

Ria nodded. The sergeant’s word choice bothered her: _should_. Should you get close. Most likely he’d used that word because Adams was expectedly private for someone in her line of work. She tried not to read too much into it. If Harris lacked faith in her, this was her chance to change that.

“Hernandez,” Harris continued, “you’ll stake-out Butcher on the fifteenth, so we know things are going according to plan.”  

Hernandez’ shoulders sank a little. A dull role like that, when things were finally getting exciting, was a slap in the face. “Yes, sir.”

As Harris handed out further roles, Ria found herself staring at Adams’ photo in the file, grainy from frequent copying. Regardless of the number of times she’d seen her face—printed, on a computer screen, through a camera lens—she never felt anything but contempt for her. This woman ruined lives, addicted people, supplied the city with a new evil. She deserved everything coming for her.

Harris spoke to the table again, his raised voice snapping Ria from her thoughts. “This case will be extremely high-profile now the press has gotten wind of Gold. It’s a hot topic. Civilians are getting worried. We _must_ get a watertight conviction on Adams, shut this down at the source.” He bent to turn a few pages in his file. “Now, Johnson, I believe you’ve got some interesting findings on Spellbound’s recent turnover?”

 

*

 

The time it took to create a false ID and churn out two credit cards under the same alias was how long it took Ria to become someone else on paper. She had one day to adopt her new identity, slip into the role of ‘Rachel Smith’, a customer service advisor who worked from home and had recently moved to the city.

Pretending to be a newcomer in a town you know like the back of your hand could be tricky, and undercover officers had to avoid visiting places where they might get recognized. Ria rarely went out these days if she could help it, though, and happily accepted desk duty over proactive police work. She’d always been something of a hermit, and working for Vice, with its endless paperwork, graveyard shifts and research jobs, didn’t offer the chance for much of a social life. That’s why Harris selected her for the undercover. That, and she was Lisa Adams’ type: female. Whatever the reason, she’d put everything into playing the part of being someone else, always did.

The apartment Vice provided was clean and plain, the only signs of life the fake mail she’d brought with her, stamped with her new name: fliers, catalogs, even a utility bill. Little details. The emptiness unsettled her, reminding her what it felt like to move into a new place with nothing.

To defeat the apartment’s vacant feel, she went shopping. She stocked the cupboards, decorated with thrifted objects—a vase, candles, a cork board for the wall, coasters, a rug, and an ugly brass dog figurine—and a large fern that immediately made the place feel less sterile. They weren’t things that would usually appeal to Ria, but Rachel Smith needed her own unique stamp on the place.

It was important to make connections as Rachel too, so Ria introduced herself at the take-out next door and visited as many local stores as she could, collecting fliers and business cards on the way to pin to the cork board. Every introduction was a rehearsal, shaping her character, getting her into the mindset of someone else, someone who only had a day to grow from a name into a person. For her last undercover, she went as far as writing a diary as her persona. She even ran a Twitter and Instagram account. But that had been a long-term case.

She had three weeks in Rachel’s shoes; it was vital she adapted fast. The first day was always the most exciting. It allowed her to be creative and provided a focus besides the target.

As night fell, while she nursed a glass of whiskey—because hey, she was technically off-duty—her gaze passed over the newly-decorated apartment. Had she missed anything? There was no theme, not really; it was all just stuff sharing the same space. The brass dog caught her attention, staring from its alert but frozen position on the windowsill, the only interesting thing she’d bought. That was what Rachel lacked: a special interest.

Using her workstation, Ria printed some dog photos from Flickr and stuck one to her empty fridge. Another, she set as her computer’s wallpaper, along with the new iPhone provided for the undercover. Now Rachel was a dog lover. There was still time to add elements to her new personality—breaking into Adams’ social circle wouldn’t be immediate.   

 

*

 

There was no easier place to blend in than Starbucks. If the caffeine-fuelled customers weren’t posting photos of their incorrectly labeled cups to Instagram, they were hotdesking: paying for one drink, then leeching off the free Wi-Fi, electricity and chair/table combination for as long as it took to do their work. Ria could be bold around Adams here and, hopefully, craft a natural first meeting.

Lines for coffee were usually long in the morning, so the place was packed. A large crowd gathered around the counter’s end, waiting for the overworked baristas to mix their drinks. Roaring blenders and hissing espresso machines forced those placing their orders to raise their voices to contend with the noise. On second thought, starting a conversation with Adams could be tricky.

Ria had followed Adams since she left her apartment, keeping her distance. Now, she was standing behind her in line. Despite knowing Adams’ routine, and her face, they’d never shared such proximity; her perfume, sweet and crisp, mingled with the heady scent of coffee that permeated everything. Ria tried not to glare at the back of her head, or her polished fingernails—gold, ironically—as they brushed her hair behind her ear. Rachel didn’t know her, or what she did for a living. Rachel’s eyes would wander Adams’ profile as she admired the selection of cakes behind the glass and think she was just another beautiful stranger.

Adams ordered an iced vanilla latte with skimmed milk; the server scribbled her name onto a plastic cup without having to ask. Once she’d paid and joined the others waiting for their coffees, Ria ordered the same drink, keeping one eye on her. Once she was standing beside her, she’d make a comment about how busy it got this time of the morning, get a conversation going.

“Your name?” the server asked.

Without thinking, she answered, “Ria,” and holy shit, that was stupid.

She couldn’t waste another twenty-four hours fixing this. If Adams ever had reason to ask, Ria was short for Rachel. It was weird but probably wouldn’t ring alarm bells.

Trying not to dwell on the mistake, Ria stood with the others, ready to make her move. Adams’s fingernails tapped her cell’s screen as she typed, engrossed in something, headphones in one ear. If she tried to speak to her now she’d come across as rude, maybe even pushy.

As the barista placed Adams’ drink on the bar, calling out her name, Ria acted quickly.

“Excuse me!” Adams called, as Ria grabbed her drink. “That’s mine!”

Ria turned the cup in her hand to read the scribbled lettering on its side. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought I heard my name and,” —she closed her eyes, shaking her head before passing the drink to Adams— “I’m so sorry.”

“Easy mistake,” Adams said, flashing a smile before turning away.

“Don’t forget a straw.” Ria plucked one from the dispenser and held it out to her. When she took it, Ria hoped she could hook her in before she tried to leave again. “Did you order a flavored latte?”

“Yes?”

“You know, there’s a coffee place over on Portland Street and,” —she rubbed the back of her neck, her unease not entirely acted— “I don’t normally do this but, uh, they do really good iced lattes with all these crazy flavors and, if you’re interested, I’d love to take you there. I’m Rachel, by the way, but you can call me Ria.” She laughed nervously. “If you like.”

Adams’ dubious expression shifted. “Lisa.” She scanned Ria briefly now that she was more than a stranger.

The barista called out Ria’s name, leaving her drink on the counter.

“Got it right this time,” Ria said, picking up the cup and holding it in the air with mock triumph.

Adams smiled a polite smile. “Want to sit with me? I’m not staying long but it’d be nice to have company.” It wasn’t a yes, but an invitation was more than Ria expected. 

As they took their seats at a window table, Ria’s wire tugged at her chest, on the edge of painful—one of many annoyances to deal with undercover. At least the station gave her hypoallergenic tape this time, so she wouldn’t itch all day. Ideally, she’d record conversations on her cell, seeing as it wouldn’t look out of place to have it in her hand or pocket most of the time, but regulations were regulations.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” Adams said, settling in her seat a little stiffly.

“I just moved here actually, about a week ago. Apparently, my priority is checking out coffee shops.” Opening her wallet, she withdrew a flyer she’d picked up the day before from Slurp Shack and started unfolding it.

“Who’s this?” Adams asked, pointing to a photo of a Jack Russell Terrier—one of last night’s prints—displayed in Ria’s wallet.

“Oh, that’s Benny,” Ria replied, thinking fast. “My mom's dog.”

Ria logged her genuine smile at the photo. “He’s beautiful.”

“He died a couple of months ago, unfortunately.” She averted her gaze, hoping a bit of tragedy might tug Adams’ heartstrings, if she had any.

“Oh, that’s sad. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. He had a good run.” Turning the flyer on the table top, she slid it across. “This is the place. They do unicorn lattes.”

“Wow.” Adams raised an eyebrow. “What are they?”

“I don’t know!” Ria laughed, swallowing the unsettling feeling of _wrongness_ she felt about making pleasant conversation with this despicable woman. She’d replace that wrongness with victory once she got what she needed out of her. “I guess, if you came with me, we could find out?”  

After a sip of coffee, Adams said, “Sounds good.” Things were going remarkably well so far.

“It’s nice to talk to someone… nice,” Ria said, rubbing the back of her neck again. “I talk to people all day for work, but they’re not usually in a good mood.”

“What do you do?”

“Customer service. It’s mostly complaints.”

“Sounds tough.”

“It is. The only good thing is the shifts. I work from home so it’s pretty flexible. I’m still looking for something else, though.” It was never too early to advertise that she was totally up for a job at the nightclub if one became available. She took a big swig of her latte, the ice-cold milk making her teeth ache. “Thought I might have more luck in the city.”

“I hope so.”

They paused for a moment, drinking their coffees, taking the other in. The atmosphere was tight, Adams still working Ria out, letting her lead the conversation.

Leaning in slightly, Ria asked, “Where do you work?”

“I manage a nightclub. Spellbound. You might’ve heard of it?”

Ria’s fingers idled up and down her straw. “I haven’t, but that’s amazing. Do you like it?”

“The job or the club?”

“Both.”

“Um,” Adams pursed her lips and then, with what looked like reluctance, shook her head. When her eyes met Ria’s, there was a sudden honesty behind them, like she was about to confess from the heart. “No. I don’t.”

Unsure of how to respond, Ria offered an apologetic look, then shrugged. “Sucks that we both hate our jobs but hey, that’s something we’ve got in common at least.” After sucking at the dregs and ice at the bottom of her cup, she asked, “So, when are you free for a date with me and that unicorn?”

Smiling, Adams fished her planner out of her bag.

 

*

 

Six days into the undercover and Ria had already convinced Adams to meet with her on three occasions. Their first date at the Slurp Shack was short and sweet, their conversation as safe as it was at Starbucks. Another, at a bowling alley, lasted only as long as two frames.

Ria continued embellishing her alias’ life when they were together, and via text message when they weren’t, making slow progress. Adams remained cautious: she discussed her hobbies, her favorite Netflix shows, and showed an interest in Ria; when it came to her work, she glossed over the topic.

Today, the start of what the weather reports were describing as a heatwave, had been their third date. Lisa chose the local park. It was lunchtime when they visited, so it was overcrowded with children, dog walkers, runners, and groups playing sports. The pathway they’d wandered, hand in hand, was lined with trees crammed with noisy birds. They’d watched them awhile, popping in and out of colorful birdhouses adorning the trunks. It was a picturesque day, but the amount of ambient noise had Ria worried that if Lisa said anything of use, it wouldn’t record well.

After returning to the apartment, Ria took a cold shower, hooking her recording device up to the computer so the audio files copied over while she was in the bathroom. They automatically backed up to the station’s cloud, but Ria wanted to play something back for her own benefit.

The hottest part of the day was over, but the air was still humid and, frustratingly, her apartment’s air-con was busted. Fresh from the shower, a towel wrapping her waist, Ria let the recording play while pouring herself a whiskey over ice.

 

_Hi, it’s good to see you!_

The feed muffled. Ria recalled them hugging. Fixing her towel, she came over to the computer and skipped through some of the audio track. She didn’t think she could bear hearing her own voice and the second-hand embarrassment from her awful attempts at flirting.

 

_Look! There’re babies in that one._

_Where?_

_The orange one. There!_

_I don’t—_

_Keep your eyes on it. I saw a baby stick its head out. There! Did you see it?_

_Oh my God. They’re so cute._

 

She skipped further through, sipping at her crisp, cold drink. The part she sought was when they’d sat on a bench under the cover of trees. Hopefully, she wouldn’t land right at the part where they’d shared their first kiss; she didn’t want to hear that played back.

 

_There’s something I need to tell you that’s going to sound bad, but I promise it isn’t._

 

Bingo. Lifting herself up onto the kitchen counter, Ria poured herself another whiskey and listened.

 

_Okay, I’m officially worried now._

_Please don’t worry. You know I told you I manage a nightclub?_

_Yeah, Spellbound._

_Well, I want to be honest with you about something, but I can’t right now. Until I’m in a position where I can, is it okay if we don’t talk about my work, like, at all? I want to keep it separate from this, from… us. Is that okay?_

_That’s…_

_I know. It must sound awful, but I promise it isn’t._

_Is there anything I can do?_

 

She remembered touching Lisa’s hand and her pulling away sharply, on edge.

 

_You can promise never to ask me about my work and never to come to the club. I don’t want you involved with it, at all._

_Uh, okay._

_You promise?_

_I promise._

 

It sounded worse the second time. The promise did nothing but increase the distance between Ria and the evidence she needed. Now, she could never come and surprise Lisa at the club, accidentally stumble across evidence and ask her about it. A job opportunity would never come up either. She’d have to tread even more carefully around the issue to avoid scaring Lisa off.

Lying back on the counter, the surface a refreshing temperature against her bare skin, she hooked an arm under her head and sighed. The promise was a pain in the ass, but today hadn’t been a total write-off. Their relationship was improving. They’d walked hand in hand. And there was the kiss, prompting her to bare her heart. The relationship had improved faster than Ria expected. Initially, she despised every moment with her, but the more time they spent together, the easier it felt to forget Lisa’s secret side and enjoy her company, brush off that unclean feeling she got around her. It helped her settle deeper into the skin of Rachel Smith, a woman who didn’t know Lisa’s secrets and had promised never to pry.

Agent Johnson tailed Lisa around the clock, swapping with his partner when he needed to catch up on sleep in a proper bed. It was a tough job; Ria was glad it wasn’t hers anymore. Johnson updated Ria on Lisa’s movements when they were apart—she continued visiting her usual haunts: private warehouses, storage facilities, and Spellbound. Somewhere inside those buildings, she was producing five thousand bottles of Gold. Hopefully, she’d leave a trail of evidence Vice could follow once she was in custody.

Ria continued writing reports of their rendezvous, sending them to the team for discussion and dissection. In her downtime, she perfected her alias, making Rachel Smith into more than a name on a counterfeit driver’s license. However difficult today might make things, she felt a breakthrough approaching.

Her cell vibrated beside her: a message from Lisa.

_Today was lovely :) Miss you already!_

Ria smiled and put the warm feeling in her chest down to the whiskey.


	2. Chapter 2

The movie was Lisa’s choice, her favorite. She’d invited Ria to her place to watch it, promising to let her pick the next one. There hadn’t been much time to do a recce of her apartment. Even if they paused the movie while Ria used the bathroom, she couldn’t exactly rifle through her cupboards without raising suspicion. So, Ria decided to treat the evening as pleasure over work.

One pleasure was the pile of goodies on Lisa’s coffee table: a bottle of wine, a big bowl of popcorn, chips with a selection of dips, and a bag of fun-sized candy bars. But the nicest part, surprisingly, was Lisa. Out of the public eye, she was much more comfortable with intimacy.

Halfway through the film, and all the way through the bottle of red, Lisa’s fingers crept into Ria’s hair. Her nails traced lazy shapes over her temple until she almost purred from the attention—when _was_ the last time she’d been touched? Turning into her, she grazed her lips against Lisa’s, breathing gently against her cheek.

This was dangerous. She had to remember the regs. Sexual intimacy with a suspect was illegal; the force was strict on that. If she broke the rules she could ruin the whole case.

Lisa’s fingers wandered, brushing down Ria’s nape and up again. Ria shivered, leaning in a little to press a kiss to her jaw. She knew she could easily get carried away—being appreciated felt good.

When their lips met, their kiss was gentle, slower and more exploratory than at the park. Ria’s concerns melted, warmth sinking low in her belly alongside the pleasant glow of the wine. She grazed Lisa’s bottom lip with her tongue, leaving it wet and glistening; the sight spurred her to kiss her harder, grab a handful of her hair and tilt her head back, kiss and suck at the curve of her neck. Her skin felt gloriously soft against her lips, her scent equally wonderful.

“You’re such a good kisser,” Lisa whispered, swallowing under the onslaught of kisses.

“Thanks. Not so bad yourself.”

Lisa’s hand crept along Ria’s thigh, the movie forgotten, her breaths heavy and hot in her ear. Ria nosed along her neck—the sweet spot beneath her ear where she dabbed her perfume, the long column of her throat, the jut of her collarbone—until Lisa pushed her back with suggestive determination, a look on her face that said: _my turn now._

Leaning into her, Lisa devoured Ria with her eyes like a pauper at a banquet, as though she’d wanted this for days. _Fuck_ , she looked gorgeous when she was horny. The thought of her straddling her lap in that dress… Christ. Ria stared, waiting for her to make her move, eyebrow quirked. Go on, then. Unexpectedly, Lisa’s hand went straight for Ria’s belt buckle. A bold move. Almost on instinct, Ria grabbed her wrist; she couldn’t risk her finding the wire. This had to end, now. It should’ve ended a lot sooner.

“I’m sorry,” Ria managed, breathless. “I can’t.” God, that was hard. She deserved a promotion for that.

Pulling away, cheeks flushed, Lisa shoved both hands into her lap. “Okay.”

“I just… I’m, not ready for that, yet.” It would’ve been better to say that _before_ she started lavishing her with kisses.

Lisa nodded minutely, brushing her hair behind her ear. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I thought—”

“Don’t be sorry.” Ria brought her hand to Lisa’s face, stroking the delicate curve of her jaw with her thumb. “I’m a bit nervy about this kind of thing. I don’t want to rush it.” She hoped it was convincing.

Lisa’s expression softened. “I understand. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Ever.”

“Thanks,” Ria said, somewhat touched. Lisa showed remarkable understanding for someone who regularly pressured people into using dangerous substances. Anger flickered in her chest at the reminder. “Doesn’t mean I want to stop kissing you, though.” And where had _that_ come from?

Smiling, Lisa grabbed the popcorn and shuffled in close again, putting the bowl in Ria’s lap and turning back to the film. Thank God someone here had some self-control.

 

*

 

_I’ve got a surprise for you! Can I come over?_

Ria’s stomach flipped. Quickly scanning the apartment for anything that might reveal her undercover, she replied.

_Okay._

Lisa hadn’t visited before, so Ria sent a second message containing her address and zip code.

_Be there soon!_

She hadn’t thought she’d see Lisa today. The station expected her in an hour for an update—and probably to scold her for not delivering any evidence yet—so she messaged Harris, informing him of the change of plans. He’d be pissed but needs must. In a mad rush, she wired herself up and shoved her files into the wall safe behind her computer stack.

When Lisa arrived, she wasn’t alone; at her heels sat a tall, pearly-white dog that was mostly legs. It looked calm, almost serene, as it blinked up at Ria through the doorway.

“Surprise!” Lisa’s smile was gigantic. “This is Soo, the Saluki.”

“Hey Soo,” Ria said, squatting in front of the beautiful creature and holding out a hand.

Soo licked the proffered hand once, then lowered her long nose to accept a pat on the head. She was the prettiest dog Ria had ever seen, and she didn’t even like dogs that much.

“She’s my friend from work’s,” Lisa confirmed. “She normally puts her in doggy day-care, but I talked her into letting me borrow her. I know you like dogs, so I thought you might want to walk her with me.” It was sweet that she’d remembered something Rachel liked, even if it was false.

“Sounds amazing. I’ll get my keys.”

 

*

 

Soo was well-behaved, staying close to Lisa’s heels even when off-leash. The park was quieter than their last visit but no cooler, the heatwave continuing. Lisa wore a tiny slip of a summer dress, the shape of her body noticeable beneath—distracting. While they walked, Ria found an opportune moment to slide an arm around her waist.

People scattered the grass, sunbathing and picnicking, reading books and enjoying the peace. A few of them followed Ria and Lisa with their eyes as they passed. They looked like obvious girlfriends, their elegant dog a symbol of a proper family. Pride was not something Ria felt often, but she could get used to this: a beautiful woman on her arm, a day of glorious sunshine and the free time to enjoy it, walking with no real destination. When could she do any of that when she wasn’t undercover?

When they reached the bench where they’d shared their first kiss, Lisa put her bag on the seat and withdrew a small bottle of sunscreen.

“Would you mind?” She waved the bottle in Ria’s direction.

“Not at all.”

Turning her back to her, Lisa hooked her arm over her head and raked her elegant fingers through her long curls, coaxing them to one side. She slipped a fingertip beneath the strap of her dress and let it fall loose over her exposed shoulder. Ria swallowed. That was hot _._ Clearing her throat, she turned her attention to the task at hand.

As she squeezed a dollop of lotion onto her palm, Ria noticed Lisa’s bag was open on the bench beside her. Staring for a moment, she examined the visible contents: a Moleskine planner, keys, a purse, a pink Chapstick...

Lisa peered over her shoulder, prompting Ria to resume what she was supposed to be doing. “You okay back there?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Lisa’s shoulders were gorgeous. A smattering of freckles trailed from her neck to her elbows. Ria followed them with her eyes, disappearing down her back beneath her dress’ hem, and tried not to think about kissing every one of them.

The jolt Lisa made when the cold lotion touched her skin, combined with her theatrical gasp, had Ria’s jaw clenching. An image flashed through her mind, instant and fully-formed, of Lisa jolting like that as her tongue slid between her legs. God. The heat must’ve been getting to her.

But, the bag—the fucking bag! She could get Harris off her back if she managed to get a lead out of it: a name in the planner, a receipt in the purse, something hidden in a compartment.

“Do you like her?” Lisa asked, tipping her head to one side.

Ria rubbed the lotion into her neck in small circles. “Who?”

“Soo.”

Flat-out on the grass, Soo lifted her head at the sound of her name.  

“She’s gorgeous.” Pushing her nose into Lisa’s temple, Ria added, “Not as gorgeous as you.”

Lisa lapped up the praise, a smile spreading across her lips. Turning her head, she moved her hair as elegantly as before to reveal her other shoulder. Ria kissed it, the sweet aroma of sunscreen filling her nostrils. A thought invaded her head like a pop up on a computer screen: Johnson could be watching them right now, hidden somewhere on the outskirts of the park with his little binoculars, possibly even reporting what he saw to the station—a total mood-killer, but a good reason to focus.

There was no way she could look in the bag with Lisa sat right beside her. There had to be a way to get it on its own, convince her to leave it in her care.

The tinkling melody of an ice cream truck cut through the air, loud enough that even Soo looked up to see where it originated. It parked up beside a nearby exit, its tune continuing. Someone must’ve been looking out for Ria because that was _too_ perfect _._

“Oh _yes_ ,” Ria said, digging a hand into her pocket. Pulling out a ten-dollar bill, she pressed it into Lisa’s hand before she could protest. “I’ll stay with Soo. Get one for yourself.” She winked exaggeratedly at Lisa’s incredulous why-do-I-have-to-go look. “Better run before it leaves!”

Getting to her feet, Lisa pulled up her shoulder straps and started walking. “What do you want?” she called, walking backwards across the daisy-spotted grass.

“A softy, with all the trimmings.” She raised her voice as Lisa got further away: “Go full unicorn!”

Laughing, Lisa turned and began a sprint towards the van. Ria kept her eyes on her—the way her hair swung from side to side, her elegant figure beneath the dress—waiting. The moment she passed through the park gate, she turned her attention to the bag.

There was no time to consider the best item to check first, so she opted for the closest. Sliding the elastic strap from the planner, she opened it at the marked page: the week they were in. Various notes were written in a way only Lisa would immediately understand. Flicking through to the next week, the date of the deal had nothing but a red sticker on it, giving nothing away.

She looked towards the gate, nervous. No sign of her, yet.

Lisa’s wallet had two compartments, one for paper, the other for plastic. Ria withdrew the cards one by one, scanning them rapidly: loyalty cards, discount cards, her driver’s license, a debit card, and an Amex printed with the name Alex L Martin. Who the hell…?

Ria opened her camera app, cursing under her breath at how long it took to load. Finally, she snapped a photo of the card’s front and back, slid it back into place, and returned the wallet to the bag.

Looking at the gate again, she saw Lisa walking through it with a soft serve ice cream in each hand.


	3. Chapter 3

From her apartment window, Ria watched Lisa and Soo leave, their shadows stretching out on the sidewalk behind them. Only when they were out of sight did her shoulders drop, the day’s tension releasing. She rolled her head side to side, inhaling a deep, refreshing breath. It was hard to shrug Rachel off sometimes.

The apartment was sweltering, even with the windows open. Opening the fridge door, she basked in the cool air. The sickly-sweet ice cream still lingered on her tongue, the syrups and sprinkles she’d pretended to enjoy clinging to her teeth. There wasn’t much in the fridge that would stifle the taste besides a packet of ham, but what the hell. Rolling up a slice, she ate it on its own and closed the door. Simple pleasures.

Apart from the ice cream, today had been good, enjoyable even. When she’d woken up that morning, sweating in the heat and cursing whoever was dragging their feet at the station about getting her apartment’s air-con fixed, she hadn’t expected to be so productive. The card had been her first real breakthrough. It deserved a second slice of ham, really.

Her cell buzzed on the counter before she could open the fridge again: a message from Harris.

_Turn up the heat Mae. We need something solid soon._

She replied with the photos of the Amex. How was that for solid? Now she’d had a success, she had to work on getting another.

Crawling onto the bed, she rolled onto her back—she always did her best thinking when horizontal. Opening her cell’s camera roll, she enlarged a picture she’d taken in the park: Lisa, making a peace sign, the daisy chain they’d made together on her head. She set it as her lock screen and checked to see how it looked.  

The time and date glowed across Lisa’s forehead, taunting. Halfway through her undercover and only one lead. The realization curbed her sense of accomplishment somewhat. She should’ve felt embarrassed, motivated to work harder. Instead, she felt overcome with emptiness, a void in her chest growing larger the more she thought about it: this would be over soon. The feeling was reminiscent of the last day of a long vacation—reality looming closer, those last precious hours difficult to enjoy.

Her cell vibrated in her hand. Harris again.

_Good work. We’re looking into it._

Thank God. If she did well on this case, it might compensate for what happened before. Harris lost confidence in her after she’d blown her last case, though he was decent enough to conceal his disappointment following the initial debrief. Her fellow officers hadn’t; they went as far as trashing her locker, writing what they really thought of her performance on the inside of the door. There’d been no point reporting it. She hadn’t scrubbed the message off either; it lingered as a reminder to do better.

It was vital she kept her head in the game. She was being cautious, letting things simmer at a comfortable pace. Like Harris said, she had to turn up the heat. By the time this was over, she’d have something to show for her hard work: dragging herself up from rock bottom, working a successful case through to the end. There’d be a spread in the local paper, Lisa’s mugshot printed beside a clever headline, journalistic hyperbole transforming the bust into the climax of an action film. She’d buy a couple of copies, cut out the article and stick it over the Sharpie statement in her locker.

Getting out of bed, smiling as she imagined it, she decided that definitely deserved a second slice of ham.

 

*

 

“I’m popping out, babe.”

“Hmm?”

Ria woke to Lisa’s fingers brushing over her forehead, sweeping her bangs from her eyes. Her back hurt like crazy, an instant and painful reminder that she’d insisted on sleeping on the sofa after they’d stayed up watching her favorite movie— _Rachel’s_ favorite. She couldn’t risk Lisa finding her wired up, or the temptation of sharing a bed with her.

“I’ll be a couple of hours. There’s breakfast stuff in the fridge if you want.”

“Oh.” Rubbing her eyes, Ria peered at the clock—eight AM. “Yeah, cool. Want me to wait for you?” If Lisa let her stay in her apartment alone… bingo.

“That’d be nice. If you can.”

“Okay. I’ll do an evening shift.”

Lisa leaned down and kissed her cheek, her long curls tickling Ria’s face as she whispered a thank you into her ear. She looked good—the polar opposite of Ria in her slept-in shirt, brain and body lagging from an uncomfortable sleep. 

As soon as Lisa closed the front door, Ria stood, forcing herself to wake up and fast. This could be her only chance to find physical evidence, or at least a lead, in Lisa’s apartment. She’d have to be meticulous but careful with her searching; it had to go undetected.

Rushing into Lisa’s bedroom, a room she’d never set foot in before, she went through each of her drawers, picking through the contents and checking for false bottoms. She had a rough idea of what she was looking for—documents, Gold paraphernalia and invoices for its legal components—but anything had potential importance. Lisa’s belongings built a bigger picture of her, which might offer ways to exploit her, but so far, all Ria found were clothes.

Lisa’s nightstand was interesting. Its contents—personal documents—were organized methodically, grouped in color-coordinated folders. They were the sort of papers that didn’t see the light of day until the rare occasion they were needed: birth certificates, warranties for electronics, insurance documents, even old school reports. One folder was crammed with Lisa’s old birthday cards. Curiously, sifting through those felt more like an invasion of Lisa’s privacy than going through her underwear drawer.

Ria was hurrying, maybe even panicking; her pounding pulse thudded in her head, punching the same rhythm against her breastbone. She had to pace herself.

She shot a message to Johnson, requesting an update on Lisa’s location and others at ten-minute intervals until her return. As always, he answered fast. He confirmed he was tracking her car, heading out of the city center. There was plenty of time to search.

Alongside books, the shelves in the corner housed a few trinket boxes containing nothing of interest. The books had no discernible theme, but Ria knew one of the novels and immediately assigned it as Rachel’s favorite. She opened each volume, bending the covers back until the pages fanned, hoping something might fall out. No such luck.

Picture frames lined the bedroom windowsill. As with much of Lisa’s décor, they had their own tatty charm, probably picked up from a flea market, possibly heirlooms. Ria removed their backs to see if they disguised anything useful. They didn’t.

After rifling through every inch of Lisa’s well-ordered bedroom, Ria had only discovered a pile of payslips from Spellbound and the tenancy agreement for her apartment—documents Vice could access legally. Breakfast might help the search; she needed energy to complete her task without overlooking something important.

The kitchen was small, so it didn’t take long to probe every cupboard and drawer. As expected, they hid no secrets, only utensils, crockery and food.

Waiting for her toast to pop, Ria studied the fridge’s door. The surface was littered with magnets and photographs, most of Lisa with an older woman. Lifting the edge of one, Lisa’s stylish cursive read: Me and Mum, 2012. Others were group pictures of Lisa with her Spellbound colleagues, back when she worked behind the bar, her wide smile lit up like a flashbulb.

Once she’d spread a thick layer of peanut butter on her toast—pleased to discover that Lisa also liked it crunchy—Ria leaned against the counter and ate it slowly, thinking. There _had_ to be a lead in the apartment. Under Lisa’s bed, a common stashing place, she’d found nothing but an old board game. The laptop on her coffee table was password protected; Ria knew without having to open it, had seen Lisa use it. She found herself staring at the trashcan, standing in the corner of the kitchen. There was an idea.

Going through Lisa’s trash was low, but she’d sunk lower. Lifting the bag out, she sat on the kitchen floor and went through its contents item by item. The stench was unpleasant, but she hadn’t expected it to smell like a rose garden. It was mostly kitchen waste: egg shells, banana skins, coffee grounds, plastic trays from microwave meals—all thoroughly unpleasant to sort through. Almost at the bottom, a folded jiffy bag started unfurling. Its address, a PO Box, was one she didn’t recognize from Lisa’s file.

After returning the trash to its rightful place and washing her hands, she took a photo of the address on her cell and emailed it to Harris. She’d take it too. Lisa wouldn’t miss it. Forensics might investigate it, as it could be a lead, but she couldn’t rely on it.

A message from Johnson lit up on her cell.

_She’s visiting a hospice. Might be a while._

Strange. During her time in surveillance, tailing Lisa for weeks, Ria never once saw her visit a hospice.

_Visitor records?_

_Already on it._

Trying not to let it distract her, Ria walked through to the bathroom. It would’ve made sense to start her search there—if Lisa was foolish enough to keep chemicals for Gold under her own roof, where would she store them? With chemicals she could buy from any convenience store to clean her toilet, that’s where. But, like most of the cupboards in the apartment, the one under Lisa’s sink held nothing of interest besides a spare toothbrush.

Opening the mirrored cabinet above the sink, Ria froze. Amongst the creams and packets stood a bottle of antidepressants, the same she’d been prescribed back when her last case turned sour. Turning the bottle in her hand, she read the pharmacy’s sticker: fresh, the date not two weeks old. Funny how she thought she knew all Lisa Adams’ secrets. Her chest tightened in sympathy, then tighter still when she realized how ridiculous that was. Lisa didn’t deserve sympathy. She lost that right by how she made a living—pushing drugs, selling them, _making_ them. How was she forgetting that? And why was her mind fighting it, making her want to hug her tight the moment she saw her again?

Inspecting the remaining medicines almost mechanically, she closed the cabinet, her reflection swinging into focus. She stared, at Rachel and Ria, the timid woman Lisa was falling for and the cop, the flirt and the liar, the empathic partner and the determined bitch who got the job done. The two were starting to blend together a little too comfortably for her liking.

 

*

 

When Lisa returned, she looked like her legs might buckle beneath her. Instead of greeting Ria, she walked through the kitchen and gripped the counter as though she might fall otherwise.

“Hey?” Ria said, curious, looming in the doorway. When Lisa didn’t move, didn’t say anything, she came up behind her and snaked both arms around her waist to hold her close. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Is it work?” She felt Lisa’s shoulders stiffen in her arms. Thanks to Johnson’s frequent reports, she knew it wasn’t work—well, unless she had contacts in the medical profession; it would take a while to get those visitor records. If she said yes, she’d have to keep her mouth shut.

After a long, tense pause, Lisa confirmed it with a nod.

Damn it. There was the conversational firewall leaping up between them again, putting an end to Ria’s questions as promised. But maybe, just maybe, in this vulnerable state, Lisa might start talking if—

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Lisa turned in Ria’s arms, breaking down into tears. She pushed her face into Ria’s shoulder, chest shuddering as she held back sobs. “I’m sorry,” she managed, inhaling shaking breaths. Her tears had already soaked puddles into Ria’s shirt. “You don’t need to see this.”

“Hey.” Ria pulled her closer, a hand cradling her nape. “You cry all you want.” Stroking her hair, she rested her chin on her crown. “You know, if someone you work with is being a dick to you, I’ll have a word with them.”

“Please,” Lisa said, a sudden warning tone to her voice. “Just drop it.”

Pressing her nose into Lisa’s hair, she rocked her softly. She didn’t know it, but in the short time she’d been away, Ria discovered things about Lisa she’d kept buried far away from their relationship. If it was shame or despair, even fear, Ria didn’t know, but at this moment, Lisa seemed more human than she ever had. And at this moment, Ria didn’t try and think her sympathy away.

 

*

 

Witnessing Lisa calm herself was fascinating. It played across her features like someone had pressed a reset button inside her head. She’d lifted her face from Ria’s chest, wiped her tears and, in an instant, become the Lisa Adams that Rachel knew.

“I need a shower,” she said, flashing a brief smile that didn’t reach her eyes before walking into the living room. Ria had never analyzed Lisa’s smile before, never realized how false it could look. Perhaps she hadn’t been looking hard enough.

Opening her laptop, Lisa typed her password and opened Spotify. Ria came and sat beside her, watching her connect to a Bluetooth speaker and open a playlist.

“I won’t be long,” she said, pulling that smile across her face again. “Let’s go for lunch after.” Hitting play, she stood up before Ria answered, the music playing in the bathroom.

Then, there it was: Lisa’s laptop, unlocked, asking to be looked through.

For a moment, Ria worried it was a trap. If she started searching the hard drive for leads, Lisa might burst out of the bathroom and catch her, their relationship over in the time it took to double-click a folder. It was pure paranoia; Lisa showed no signs of suspecting anything. Though, wasn’t that suspicious in itself? Maybe, she’d been in on this from the start and this was a test, cleverly devised to catch her out.

No. Lisa fell for Ria’s façade because she was a good actor: she could improvise, get deep into character, all without needing a disguise. Lisa knew Rachel; she would never know Ria.

Rachel wouldn’t snoop around Lisa’s apartment, though. Neither would she dig through her trash, go through her handbag, read private messages inside birthday cards she kept in her nightstand. A hot shard of guilt pierced Ria’s gut as she remembered doing all those things as if watching scenes unfold as an audience member, herself on the stage.

What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn’t a personal deceit; this was her job. If switching from one character to another was becoming difficult, she had to work harder at recognizing when it happened, weed out her weaknesses. She couldn’t allow herself to become emotionally involved with a suspect.

The shower’s running water was a distant static, mixing with the melodies of Lisa’s music. The combined sounds bled through the bathroom door, ajar. Ria’s heart pounded again, a bass drum in her ears as her hands wrung in her lap. _If_ Lisa caught her, she could always say she was Googling a place to get lunch.

Lunging forwards, she opened the web browser.

The first thing she went for was her email account, linked in the bookmarks bar. It was password protected.

Her browsing history might lead somewhere, then. She skimmed the list of sites, looking for something, _anything_. 

“Ria?”

Lisa’s voice hit Ria’s ears like a lightning bolt, seizing her body into a frozen spasm of fear. It came from the bathroom. She wasn’t in the room. But her voice alone was enough to stop Ria in her tracks, scare her from her task. She closed the browser and called back. “Yeah?”

“Can you bring me a towel?”

“Okay.” She’d seen towels earlier, in her bedroom drawer. On autopilot, she walked through to the bedroom, realizing her mistake as she crossed the threshold. Backtracking, she hovered by the bathroom door and asked Lisa where she kept them.

“Third drawer down in my bedroom.” The water stopped, music still playing.

Once outside the bathroom, towel in hand, Ria called through: “Here you go.”

“Well, come in then.” Lisa’s tone was playful, excited. It was almost as if the tearful scene in the kitchen never happened.

Ria pushed the door open to find Lisa standing beside the bath, naked, her soaking hair clinging to her shoulders and the soft curves of her breasts. “Feeling better?” she asked. Her cheeks felt hot, and not from embarrassment. The heat spread down her spine as droplets of water on Lisa’s nude form caught her attention, sliding down Lisa’s long pale thighs, dripping from the tips of her elegant fingers.

“You could make me feel better,” Lisa said, crossing the space and stopping before her, eyes liquid and dazzling, looking Ria over like she wanted to eat her alive.

“How?” Using all the willpower she could muster, Ria looked away, but Lisa held her chin with soft fingertips and turned her head back to face her, allowing it.

“Two ways, really.” Her eyes were magnificent, persuasive and alluring, cutting Ria to the bone. “You could dry me off, or” —she leaned closer— “make me wetter.”

Oh, _God_. Ria closed her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. It didn’t matter which of her personas Lisa addressed at this moment, she’d want her either way.

“No pressure,” Lisa added, stroking her thumb across Ria’s cheek. The touch went straight to her groin.

Was retreat an option? That’s what she _should_ do if she followed the regs. The wire taped to her chest was recording every second of their exchange. Later, the file would be in the station’s hands, backed up and analyzed word by scandalous word.

She might offend Lisa if she refused her advances, but she’d coped the last time. Ria hardly had the mental capacity to think her options through right now, not with Lisa’s naked body in front of her, the heat of her skin penetrating the inch of space between them. The only choice she had was improvising.

Dropping the towel, Ria leaned forwards, pushing Lisa’s wet hair away to kiss her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she settled her palm on Lisa’s waist. It would be easy, _so easy_ , to slide her hand between her legs, part her soft hair and stroke the silken heaven it concealed, but the wire would pick up sounds if she did, sounds that would have people asking questions. And, if she went that far, the temptation to go further would be near-irresistible.

“I don’t want to take advantage, when you’re feeling vulnerable,” Ria whispered. If only that were true. If only her head wasn’t swimming with the thought of throwing Lisa onto her bed, burying her face between her legs and devouring her until she couldn’t remember her own name.

Lisa answered by taking Ria’s hand and leading it to her chest. “You’re not taking advantage if I ask,” she said, which wasn’t true at all.

Ria’s hand trembled, hovering against Lisa’s breast, barely touching. The hard bud of her nipple grazed her palm as she breathed in and out, chest rising and falling. Why couldn’t she speak, make an excuse, say _something_? Words would stop her fingers from curling of their own accord around the swell of Lisa’s breast, taking what she wanted.

“I—”

She had to remember the case—the doubting looks of her colleagues when Harris gave her the job. Pursuing this proved them right. She had to remember Lisa too, who she really was—those photos of civilians in ICU because _this woman_ fed them a near-lethal concoction of chemicals. She had to resist. _Had_ to.

“I can’t,” she managed, finally, the apology dragging her lips against Lisa’s skin as she spoke. She kissed her neck, breathing her in for a moment, allowing herself that one gift. “I want to but, I’m, I’m just…”

“Scared?” Lisa asked, voice like velvet.

Ria withdrew her hand, then her mouth, from Lisa’s proximity. Fear fitted Rachel’s character, the story she’d already spun. “Yeah.”

Carefully, Lisa slid her fingers into Ria’s hair and pulled her close again. “I won’t bite”

This conversation had to end and soon, but there was no easy path out of this intimate minefield. A refusal might spoil Lisa’s trust, make her doubt her. It might make her want her even more. Unless… How had she not thought of it before?

“You know I promised never to talk to you about Spellbound?”

Lisa’s brow furrowed at the irrelevancy of the topic, and possibly because Ria had managed a complete sentence instead of single, stuttered words. “Yes?”

“Can I get my own deal, with this?” She placed her hand on Lisa’s against her cheek. “I don’t feel like I can talk about why I can’t do this yet but, if you give me time, I know I will.” It was perfect. Lisa couldn’t refuse. Well, she _could_ , but it’d make her look totally unreasonable and incapable of compromise.

Lisa’s eyes ticked from side to side as she considered the request. “Okay.” She blinked up at Ria with a different kind of smile on her face—a real one, and an understanding one. Lifting onto her tiptoes, she kissed Ria tenderly. “I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

“What am I doing here?”

Jessica’s expression made Ria feel like an idiot. Everything about the office’s muted, brutalist interior always had, from Jessica’s collection of globular shelf ornaments to the ridiculously uncomfortable chair—she hadn’t missed that.

“It’s standard practice,” Jessica said, crossing her legs at the knee and resting her notepad on the arm of her much more comfortable-looking chair.

Arguing was futile. Harris had told her to attend a psych evaluation and that was that; it didn’t mean she had to take it lying down. “Since when?”

Jessica didn’t justify that with an answer. “How have you been since our last session?”

“Fine.”

“And how are you finding your current case?”

“Also fine.” Even if her answers remained confidential—something she’d always doubted—saying as little as possible was the best way to go about this complete waste of time.

“Ria,” Jessica began, sitting forwards, “this is one session, that’s all. You haven’t done anything wrong. The department wants to make sure you’re capable of handling this case.”

“If that’s true, then why not do this at the beginning?”

“Because this is counseling, a form of support for officers in high-pressure situations, not an exam. Once you’ve answered a few questions, you can get straight back to work.” Yeah, if she answered them the right way.

Well, if boxes needed ticking. “Okay. Fire away.”

“Thank you.” She glanced at her clipboard, “So, how are you finding the case?”

“I like it, a lot. It’s more interesting than surveillance and better than desk duty.”

“Tell me about your suspect.”

“Lisa,” Ria confirmed. “She makes that new drug, Gold. Sells it at her nightclub.”

“How does Gold work?”

“Come on, you’ve seen the news.” When Jessica tilted her head, her expression edging from patient to slightly less patient, Ria sighed. “It’s like the liquid in e-cigarettes, but you inhale it from the bottle. People think it’s pretty hipstery crap that turns your breath gold and makes you feel like you’re on coke, but it’s much more harmful than that.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

Ria’s face must’ve been a picture, because what kind of question was that? “No!”

“Just curious. Have you made any leads?”

“Yeah. I found a bank card under a false name. It’s connected to an account she’s using for profits, disguising the income as wages for a nightclub employee who doesn’t exist. The outgoing transactions all pay for her mother’s hospice care.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow, jotting something on her pad. “That’s unfortunate. Do you think that’s why she’s involved with criminal activity, her mother?”

“I don’t know. I feel sorry for her, having to deal with that, but it doesn’t excuse anything.”

“Have you found anything else?”

“An address for a PO Box under the name of one of her colleagues who’s in on the deal. He owns a storage facility nearby that she uses. Brown’s tracking him to see if he might be masterminding this, using Lisa as a puppet. He doesn’t think he is.”

“Do _you_ think he is?”

She hoped so, but that was irrelevant. She shrugged.

“Well, it looks like you’ve done well so far.”

Not well enough, apparently. “Harris keeps pushing me for audio, but I won’t get it. She’ll never confess anything to me.”

“Why? Are you not getting as close to her as you’d like?”

“She specifically asked me not to talk to her about her work at the nightclub. It makes it difficult.”

“Have you made an emotional connection with Lisa yet?”

“No.” She wasn’t going to fall for that one. “My undercover identity has.”

“Not you personally?”

“No.”

“But, you enjoy spending time with her.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know where you’re getting that from.”  

“If I’m making the wrong assumptions, you should put me right.”

“It’s just work. I do what I have to do.”

“Does that ever make you unhappy?”

“Sometimes.” Jessica’s ice-blue eyes held her gaze for a moment, razor-sharp, like she was mentally cutting through Ria’s exterior and gutting her, spreading her grisly secrets out on the table between them and sifting the viscera until she found what she wanted.

Without writing any notes, she asked, “Have you ever found it hard to separate yourself from your undercover identity?”

Confessing to that would be a _big_ red cross on her file. “No.”

“Have you been intimate with Lisa?”

“We’ve kissed if that’s what you mean. I can’t take it further than that.” Before Jessica could ask, she added, “And I don’t want to.”

“Have you developed a sexual attraction to her?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you scared you might repeat what happened last time?” Ria noticed she didn’t call it a mistake, just something that happened. That something resulted in a case getting thrown out, civilians getting hurt, and the complete loss of Ria’s reputation at the station, not to mention months of counseling and emotional leave.

“That has nothing to do with this case.”

“Your relationship with your partner broke down because of an undercover case. You pressured your target so you could return to her, crossed the line into entrapment, but she didn’t want you back.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Where are you going with this?”

“It seems to me that your fear of repeating that mistake, and the enjoyment you get from Lisa’s company, is affecting your performance.” She left it hanging a moment, then added, “If you’re developing feelings for her, emotionally or otherwise, the concern would be that those feelings have shifted your priorities.”

Sitting forward in her chair, Ria rested her elbows on her knees and looked Jessica in the eye. “Even if you’re right, which you’re not, I’ve done good work so far so why should I stop now?”

“I have your case file.” She pointed her pen towards her desk, a beige file lying perfectly straight on the center. “You haven’t made a breakthrough in days. How many times have you met with Lisa since your last lead?”

Ria shrugged and turned away, burning hot with embarrassment.

“Four times,” Jessica confirmed. “And on those four occasions, your transcripts show no attempts to probe her. You don’t question her in any of your text message exchanges, despite going as far as having several risqué conversations with her. Either you’re afraid to do your job, or you enjoy being her close companion too much to try. If this operation is affecting your ability to separate fiction from reality, the department will take you off it.”

Ria was speechless. She’d always wondered if Jessica had access to her case files. Now she knew. It was fine that the station kept tabs on her, but she didn’t want to be dissected by a shrink to get back to what she was supposed to be doing.

“Look,” she said, turning back to Jessica. “I know from the outside it looks like I’m getting distracted, but I can do this. I’m making progress. I can get a confession, but she has to trust me first. That’s why I’m taking things slow.” Jessica nodded, which was encouraging. “You wouldn’t have signed me off last time if you thought I couldn’t handle things. My only goal in this case is to see her behind bars, believe me.”

“I do, but Harris doesn't. I encourage you to remember that the next time you see Lisa. He wants results, and you won’t get any by taking things slow.”

Ria’s shame evaporated. It felt like a dam breaking inside her, the hollow in her chest flooding with anger. This whole thing had been a motivational exercise. It was a total violation. But, like everything in this case, she had to hold back her feelings, rebuild the dam even higher this time. Fuck Jessica. Fuck Harris. And fuck everyone in the department who’d conspired against her to have her sat in this chair again, forced to relive the experience of her previous recovery.

“Can I go now?” She kept her voice steady, concealing the cracks in her patience.

Jessica nodded.

 

*

 

As soon as she left the station, she called Johnson and hailed a taxi. Cell pinned awkwardly between her ear and shoulder, she wired herself up on the back seat.

“Where is she?” she asked, the moment Johnson picked up.

“On her way from Spellbound to what I suspect is the storage facility, going by her route. Why?”

“Is she on foot?”

“Yes. It’s a short walk.” On edge, he asked again, “Why?”

“The storage place, give me the address.” As soon as Johnson recited it, Ria called through to the driver and changed her destination.

“You can’t go there!” Johnson said, as if she was a complete idiot.

“I know.” She hung up before he could say anything further.

If they wanted the pushy approach, they could have it. And if it fucked up, on their heads be it.

 

*

 

She’d timed it perfectly. Lisa was on the sidewalk, dragging a small wheeled suitcase. As the taxi pulled up to the curb beside her, Ria hooked her arm over the open window and called to her.

“Hey good looking, off somewhere nice?”

Apart from their first meeting at Starbucks, they’d never met like this. Things were always planned. Even with the surprise day at the park with Soo, Lisa asked before turning up.

“Oh.” Lisa didn’t know where to look. “Hi.”

“Need a ride?”

“No thank you. Sorry babe, I’m busy. I need to get going.”

“No problem,” Ria said, shoving some notes through to the driver and telling him to keep the change. When she jumped out onto the sidewalk, Lisa didn’t bother to disguise her irritation. “I’ll walk with you. Where’re you off to?”

“Honestly, I don’t need an escort,” Lisa replied, avoiding the question.

Ria looked at the suitcase. “What’s in the case?” It was forward, for Rachel at least, but not too impolite a question.

Lisa shielded her eyes from the sun while deliberating. “Tester bottles, for Spellbound.” She gave Ria a knowing look; this would usually be when Ria stopped asking questions. Not this time.

“Oh.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder. “Isn’t Spellbound that way?”

“Ria, I’m busy.” Turning away, Lisa started walking, glaring ahead as the suitcase’s wheels scraped at the ground behind her.

“You won’t walk with me?” Ria started walking too, following her. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to be seen with me or something?”

“ _Ria_. Just drop it!”

“I don’t see why I can’t walk with you. I’ll leave when we get there, though you are still going the wrong—”

“I won’t say it again.” Lisa had stopped abruptly and grabbed Ria’s wrist. Lowering her head, she spoke under her breath. “I’m busy. It’s _work_. I want you to go now.”

“Fine.” Ria snatched her arm away and turned on her heels.

If Harris needed proof that pushing Lisa Adams didn’t work, there it was.

 

*

 

The date of the arranged deal at Spellbound fast approached. Lisa wasn’t answering calls or texts. In her anger to prove she was right, Ria had screwed everything up.

Harris pushed her relentlessly to remake her connection with Adams, as if it was that easy. There were only so many times she could phone her, Lisa’s answerphone message tauntingly cheerful, before it’d border on obsessive. He told her to visit the club and ask for her. She refused. _That_ was reckless. Anything that went beyond what Rachel would do, that broke her promise, only decreased the already slim chance of a response. Hadn’t the encounter on the street proved that?

Johnson’s matter-of-fact reports said Lisa was working constantly, flitting between her known haunts, getting the five thousand bottles together for Butcher. With the amount she was working, even if they hadn’t fought, Ria couldn’t imagine she’d have had time to see her.

At the final station meeting before the bust, everyone had piles of new evidence from their own investigations: locations where Lisa’s associates processed the Gold, invoices for materials, intercepted mail to the PO Box, statements from previous buyers with paper trails leading straight to her. When they looked to Ria, she had nothing. She was ashamed of herself, unable to look her colleagues in the eye.

Resigning herself to failure, she hoped the bank card and address were enough for Harris. Surely they proved her undercover wasn’t a complete disaster? But who was she kidding? The others wouldn’t see it that way—the whole point had been getting a confession. In the beginning, she’d convinced herself this was her chance to prove herself, been wildly optimistic about the outcome. That had made it sting so much more when the whole thing crashed and burned.

Without Lisa’s company, the days seemed long and unbearable, trapped in the apartment alone, knowing Rachel wouldn’t exist in a few short days. Ria would have to return to her real home, lonelier still, more of a failure than when she’d left it. Jessica was right. She’d immersed herself in Rachel’s world—a wonderful distraction from everything less than perfect in her own life—and gotten addicted to it. There was irony in that, Ria supposed.

 

*

 

The raid was two nights away and Ria was nursing the hangover from hell. She’d overslept, considerably. Her work cell was off, battery dead; she hadn’t bothered recharging it. In less than seventy-two hours, her colleagues would bring Lisa down, celebrate the shared victory of her arrest, and Ria would lock the door to this apartment for the last time.

Trudging to the kitchen in her pajamas, she fixed herself a bowl of cereal. It was gone noon but whatever, food was food. As she ate, slouched on the edge of her unmade bed, she pondered ways to get Lisa back in these final hours, or at least get her attention, but they all seemed too… dishonest. She could loiter at Soo’s doggy day-care at closing time, ask her owner to pass a message on. Bit creepy, though.

The intercom’s high-pitched blare shocked her from her thoughts, almost sending her cereal onto the floor. Probably someone buzzing the wrong number.

She pressed the button and asked who it was.

“Ria?” The sound of Lisa’s voice hit Ria in the chest like a fist.

“Yeah.” Could she not have thought of something better to say?

“Can I… come up?”

“Yeah, God sorry, yeah, come in.”

After hitting the button to unlock the door, Ria surveyed the apartment, gaze scurrying over every surface. Besides being an absolute mess, she was in the clear; she hadn’t done any work in days so it wasn’t like there’d be something suspicious lying around.

There was no time to wire herself up. Sweeping a hand through her hair, she tried to make herself more presentable. It might be better if she didn’t, then Lisa could see what a mess she’d become since the fight, but it was two PM and she was still in her pajamas—that said enough.

Opening the door, Ria found Lisa standing in the doorway, a bunch of tulips in her hand and a wide-eyed expression on her face. She gave Ria a subtle once over, standing silently, then asked if she could come in.

“I’m so sorry,” Lisa said, once the door closed. “I’ve been a bitch.” Crossing the space, she lay the flowers on the kitchen counter and turned to face Ria again. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, or gone silent on you. You have every right to be mad at me.”

“But you came back,” Ria said flatly. She wasn’t sure if she’d meant it as a question. Lisa looked like she had a speech planned and, in all fairness, she had a lot of making up to do.

“Yes.” Coming closer, she took Ria’s hand in her own. Her eyes searched her face anxiously. “I missed you. I wanted to apologize sooner but I’ve been busy with work and… the longer I left it the worse it… Can you forgive me?”

Ria’s breath hitched. The hopelessness she’d felt since their last meeting, that crept into her bones and weighed her down, vanished the moment Lisa slipped her fingers between hers. “Yeah. Course I can.”

Lisa kissed her with relief and Ria felt her smile against her lips. She captured her waist, pulling her close until their bodies pressed together. This had to be a dream. Nothing this perfect, or this convenient, ever happened to her. She couldn’t help but smile too, pressing her forehead to Lisa’s and standing there, eyes closed, enjoying her presence. All that work trying to get her back and she’d returned on her own accord, _wanted_ to. What she’d been doing in that time didn’t matter—she was here, now.

“Listen,” Lisa said, stroking Ria’s cheek. “I have to get back to work, but I had something else I wanted to say, well, ask.”

Ria lifted her head, looking into her eyes and awaiting the question.

“Let’s go away somewhere together, next week.” She squeezed Ria’s hand. “My treat.”

“Next week?” Impossible.

“Let’s book a chalet somewhere, or go skiing, whatever you like.” She smoothed a hand over Ria’s shoulder, thumb stroking along her collarbone. “If you can get the time off.”

“Can’t we go this weekend?” She knew the answer would be no, but if Lisa explained why—and honestly—when she wasn’t wired up, it’d be just her luck. And what if she said yes? Shit. What if she’d just convinced her to remain absent during the trade, give the job to someone else?

Lisa’s pause felt like a lifetime, her gaze moving to one side as she considered it. Ria wasn’t sure which outcome she’d prefer.

“I can’t. It has to be next week. I’ll explain then.” She pressed her forehead to Ria’s again. “I’ll explain _everything_ then.”

Ria knew exactly what that meant. Once again, Lisa dangled the promise of a confession under her nose like a carrot on a stick. By the time Ria could bite, it’d be too late. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” By then, she’d already have spent a night in police custody. “We’ll talk then.”

“Can’t we meet before that?” Ria’s hands slid down Lisa’s forearms, fingers enclosing her delicate wrists. She couldn’t leave. This could be the last time she’d be with her as a free woman; she had to make the most of every second.

Lisa shook her head. “I want to, but I can’t. I’m all yours next week, though. I promise.”

They kissed again. Ria pulled her closer, hands roaming her waist, the curve of her spine, up into her loose hair. This could be her last chance to touch her, taste her. But then Lisa pulled away, stopping her with a small laugh. “I have to go, babe. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.”

Ria watched her leave, standing in the doorway of her apartment until she was out of sight. Listening to her footsteps in the hall until she couldn’t hear them anymore, she closed her eyes. She felt new, invigorated.

Closing the door, she immediately plugged in her cell. Once it started up, she found several irritated messages from Harris, demanding updates and offering suggestions. The most recent was from Johnson, warning her of Lisa’s imminent approach. Ria had preferred the surprise.

She’d need to report their reunion, even if it was useless in the grand scheme. For now, she’d bask in the elation of seeing Lisa again. The deadline marred it slightly, but she didn’t care. Failing the mission seemed inconsequential—she’d won Lisa’s heart. There was something comforting about that.

Throwing the curtains open, she called the station to give Harris the good news.


	5. Chapter 5

Lisa kept in contact sporadically throughout the day, sending pictures and links to possible vacation destinations. Every message lifted Ria a little higher from her gloom. Johnson’s updates—rarely paid attention to—confirmed Lisa was working hard on her consignment, zipping from place to place, everything going as planned.

There had to be a way to meet up with Lisa before the bust. And there had to be a way to get a confession out of her, the goal the whole case revolved around.

The night before the raid, Ria realized she had to take a risk. That was why she was knocking on Lisa’s door at eight PM, uninvited, a double whiskey in her belly for courage. Her wire sat in the bottom of her bag, turned off. The purpose of her visit was completing the mission. It had nothing to do with her feelings for Lisa and absolutely nothing at all to do with dreading her loss.

“Ria?” Lisa looked surprised when she opened the door, dressed like she was about to leave. “I was just heading out.”

“Don’t.” Ria walked into her apartment. “Stay with me. _Please_.”

“Are you okay?”

Nothing about this was okay. Nowhere near okay. “Yeah, I just need your company right now.”

Lisa looked at her cell and chewed her thumbnail. “Babe, I…” She was going to send her away, wasn’t she? “Let me call work and tell them I’ll be late.”

Every emotion that had twisted back and forth inside Ria for the past three weeks rose up in her chest, roaring in her ears like rushing water. Her plan, her wish, was the only logical way of convincing Lisa to stay with her, before the clusterfuck of tomorrow. Excitement flowed through her, the whiskey’s soothing heat steadying the tide. Tipping her head back, she inhaled a leveling breath. The ocean of feelings escaped in the form of a single tear.

Lisa spoke quietly into her cell in the kitchen. Once she’d hung up, she rushed to Ria’s side and reached to hold her face. “What’s wrong?” She wiped the tear away with her thumb.

Smiling, Ria turned into Lisa’s palm, savoring the heat of her skin against her cheek. “Nothing. I was feeling lonely. I’m sorry.”

Lisa shushed her. “Don’t be silly. I’m here now. Want to talk about it?”

Ria shook her head, eyes ticking between Lisa’s lips and her big, worried eyes. She was made up: dark eyeshadow, thickly-painted and curled lashes. It made her look fierce. Taking her in, Ria whispered, “You look fucking gorgeous.”

Leaning in, she claimed Lisa’s mouth with a kiss. Lisa mumbled a surprised _oh_ but went with it, until they found a perfect rhythm. Ria clutched her with both hands, fingers grasping her loose hair as she devoured her. They’d never kissed like this. Before, Ria was always left hungry, knowing it could never go further; tonight, she hoped she’d finally be satiated. It was against the rules, and there was a chance the plan wouldn’t work, but if it didn’t, fuck it—she’d allow herself this one happiness.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Ria breathed, tugging Lisa’s bottom lip with her teeth and marveling at the high sound she made. Sliding Lisa’s cardigan over her shoulders, she let it fall to the floor. “I couldn’t wait until next week to see you.”

Kissing her all the while, she walked Lisa towards the sofa until the backs of her thighs hit the arm. She lifted her onto it, encouraged her legs around her waist, and smiled into her mouth when she complied, pushing her tongue into Lisa’s open mouth and _tasting_ her.

“You did miss me, didn’t you?” Lisa breathed, raking her fingers through Ria’s bangs.

“I think I’m ready for this,” Ria whispered. “If you are.” There was every chance Lisa wasn't in the mood for this.

Brushing Ria’s hair from her eyes, Lisa looked up at her, a smile creeping across her lips as her eyebrows lifted. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Spurred by the development, Lisa pulled her in for another kiss. Ria felt alive. Lisa’s thighs squeezed tight around her waist; her tongue drew along her bottom lip, over the points of her teeth, then deeper; her fingernails dug into the back of her neck just hard enough to make her hiss. Her roaming hands lit every nerve they touched ablaze, sparks igniting beneath Ria’s skin and spreading like wildfire. She surrendered, glad to be engulfed.

Overheating, Ria ripped off her jacket and threw it onto the sofa. Lisa watched, interested, her lips wet and parted. Her gaze lingered on Ria’s belt and, realizing she’d been caught staring, she smirked.

The zip of Lisa’s dress slid down with ease. Ria slid both hands beneath the parted fabric, grasping at bare skin. Unable to resist, she peeled the material over Lisa's shoulder, exposing freckled flesh she’d kissed before, but never like this. Lisa melted into her grip, letting Ria bite and suck along the curve of her throat, emitting soft whimpers that made Ria ache. She'd never hear these noises again, never make all the tension drain from Lisa's limbs with her mouth. Their relationship would end with Lisa thrown into a cell, that much was guaranteed. It wouldn’t end with Ria back at her desk, regretting not taking what she wanted when she had the chance. Something that felt this good couldn’t be wrong. Lisa wanted this as much as she did.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” Ria asked against Lisa’s neck, heart pounding. She drew her tongue along the trail of freckles, all the way up to her earlobe, and sucked it and her small gold stud earring into her mouth.

“Fuck yes.”

Ria hoisted Lisa’s petite frame from the sofa arm and carried her towards the bedroom. Lisa squealed, giggling as she tightened her grip around her waist, clinging onto her shoulders like she was afraid Ria might drop her. She wouldn't.

The mattress bounced when they landed on it together, side by side, and Lisa laughed, rolling onto her back. Ria suffocated her giggles with kisses, holding her face before climbing on top of her, smothering her with her weight. She pinned Lisa's wrists beside her head, settling between her thighs. She pressed her forehead to Lisa’s, one hand leaving her wrist to stroke her face. They stilled, Lisa’s eyelids heavy, looking up at Ria like she was the only woman in the world.

“Where do you like to be touched?” Ria asked in a whisper.

Lisa’s voice was as thick as honey when she replied: “You’ve got plenty of time to find out, babe.” If only she knew how untrue that was. 

Looking down at her, Lisa's face cradled in her palm, Ria thought she just tell her, confess. I'm a cop. How hard would it be? I'm a cop and I fucking love you. She couldn't. I'm a cop and I can't do this to you. I'm a cop. Let's run away together. I'm a cop. Do you still want me? She wasn't going to do that, but it didn't stop her wanting to.

Reaching down between them, Lisa pushed at the edge of the dress that was hanging off of her, encouraging Ria to take it off properly. She complied, until Lisa was in only her bra and panties and _fuck_ , she was gorgeous. The memory of her baring herself after a shower sent a bolt of heat between Ria’s legs—those rivulets of water sliding down her skin, that needy look on her face. She hadn’t touched, never thought she could. She shouldn’t now, but, somehow, that made her want to all the more.

Ria pushed a loose curl behind Lisa’s ear, the rest of her hair splayed messily on the pillow. She looked incredible when she was horny: cheeks stained a high pink, eyes heavy-lidded, her fingers clenching and unclenching beside her face beneath Ria’s amorous gaze. Ria kissed each of her fingertips in turn, across her palm, then down the fragile skin of her wrist. She felt her pulse thud against her lips, noticed her sweet perfume. So sad, no, tragic, that she'd never get to do this again. These pretty wrists and hands would soon be in cuffs, nails bitten away from stress. 

Impatient, Lisa took Ria’s hand and led it between her legs. A patch had soaked through the crotch of her panties, the wet fabric clinging to her skin. Ria pressed her thumb against it, feeling the heat beneath and had to bite Lisa’s shoulder to stifle every curse word she knew from tumbling out of her mouth in one long sound.

" _Please_ ," Lisa whimpered, her hips arching into Ria’s touch.

When Ria slipped her hand beneath the waistline of Lisa’s panties, she was quickly told to take them off. Peeling them down her thighs, she noticed imprints they’d left in Lisa’s skin, pink stripes across her thighs, the juts of her hips. Trailing one with her finger, she let it wander off course, brushing through the dark hair framing her pussy, then lower.

Lisa’s skin scorched, slick and pliant under Ria’s tentative caresses. Ria pushed her face into her temple as she circled her finger around her clit, feeling her body jolt, her breath hitch. Following the curve of her body, she brushed her finger over her opening, teasing. She dipped the very tip of her finger inside, then withdrew it, painting her clit with her wetness, easing her finger’s journey over the swollen peak. Lisa sobbed, turning into Ria’s chest and clutching at her. When Ria pushed her finger all the way in, Lisa threw her head back and moaned, the sound trailing into a hiss. God, she was so fucking beautiful.

Withdrawing her hand, Ria moved down Lisa’s front. She kissed the firm line of her sternum, sucked her nipples through the thin silk of her bra, then pressed wet lips over her belly. Her mouth found the imprints from her panties, fading now. She followed one of the lines with her tongue, letting it lead her to her destination. Lisa parted her thighs wordlessly, out of breath, allowing it. They were limp when Ria lifted them, hooking them over her shoulders as she nestled her face in-between. She inhaled deep, letting Lisa's scent fill her nostrils: rich, intimate, _wonderful_.

Lisa’s pussy radiated heat, her skin swollen a dark pink when Ria parted her hair and stared brazenly. Her mouth watered at the sight and, unable to resist any longer, she pushed her tongue into the inviting warmth. The sound Lisa made, low and desperate, was almost as arousing as the taste of her, the heat of her against her mouth.

Starting gentle, she drew her tongue along Lisa's slit, gliding over glossy flesh. Lisa reached for her, grabbing handfuls of her hair and pulling tight as she moaned a  stuttered and broken sound. Ria prodded the tip of her tongue against her clit, feeling her shudder from head to toe. She wouldn’t do that often—she didn’t want this ending prematurely. Covering her clit with the flat of her tongue, she suffocated it with the muscle’s heat and slid two fingers into her, head spinning at how effortlessly they went inside.

“Fuck!” Lisa gasped like she was in pain, hips lifting off the bed.

Curling her fingers, Ria kneaded tight circles deep inside Lisa’s silken flesh. Her legs trembled over her shoulders, her gasps turning from pained to awestruck. Ria’s crotch felt ablaze. She clamped her thighs together, attempting to ease the ache. It failed. With her spare hand, she touched herself through her jeans—just a little pressure, but just enough.

Unable to control herself, Ria fucked her fingers in and out of Lisa’s pussy. She lapped messily at her clit, licking over it, around it, feeling it throb against her tongue. She tasted divine. The slick sounds of her attention, combined with Lisa’s weak, whimpering noises, was dizzying.

Time felt immaterial between her thighs. She could do this forever. Her shirt had stuck to her back with perspiration; her jaw ached; her wrist was starting to cramp. She ignored it all. All that mattered was making Lisa come.

Panting into Lisa’s heat, Ria dared a look at her face. She looked wrecked: her eyelids fluttered over closed eyes, thick eyelashes fanned again her cheeks; her hands lay limp beside her, chest heaving as she panted. A beautiful sight. A sight she'd not forget in a hurry. A sight she wanted to see again and again. She sucked hard on her clit, moaning when Lisa's hips arched into her mouth.

Lisa’s pussy fluttered, her hands grabbing Ria’s hair again and tugging hard. She gasped, her breathing suddenly erratic. "Ria, _oh_ , God! I'm—"

Slowing her movements, Ria massaged the swollen spot inside Lisa’s soaking depth, her hair standing to attention as Lisa's whimpers built higher and higher in pitch. When she came, her muscles clenched rhythmically around Ria’s buried fingers. The strength of her orgasm almost finished Ria off, but she’d need touch to get there. If it was Lisa’s or not she didn’t care, but she needed it soon.

Crawling up Lisa’s spent body, Ria peppered her panting chest with kisses before slumping beside her. Lisa was too exhausted to say anything, but her dumb smile was all Ria needed. Breathing hard, her gaze dragged over Ria’s face as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked amazed, blissed out, and, Ria hoped, a little bit in love. She leaned across, struggling at Ria’s belt with weak fingers. Ria unbuckled it for her; Lisa managed the fly, unzipping it with urgency, fumbling with the fabric.

"I’m really close," Ria warned, embarrassed by the admission.

She worried she might come before Lisa touched her. The sight of her hand sliding between the part of her jeans was almost enough. Her clit throbbed in time with her pulse, the pleasant ache spreading up into her belly while Lisa fumbled with the waistline of her underwear.

Once her hand made it inside Ria’s jeans, Lisa slid two fingers into the part of her pussy. Ria’s every muscle melted into the sheets as Lisa pinched her swollen clit between two straightened fingers. She sobbed pathetically as those fingers moved back and forth, lazily, painfully slow—any faster and it’d be too much. Biting her lip, she tried to hold off the surge of pleasure, but she was already coming, hips jerking under the barest of touches.

The world fell away, replaced by bliss and heat, the only sound Lisa’s breath in her ear and her own involuntary noises that she'd be embarrassed by later. Waves of pleasure radiated from where Lisa touched her, her fingers slowing to a stop, squeezing softly.

Snapping her eyes open, Ria stole one last look at Lisa’s hand down her pants before she’d inevitably pull away. When she did, she turned Ria’s head to face her and kissed her, impossibly slow, and somehow more intimate than anything they'd just done together. It prompted Ria to roll into her, her clothed body pressing against Lisa's almost nakedness all the way down as she held her tight, one hand in her hair, the other on her waist. At this moment, there was no case, no lies, no deadline, there were only Lisa’s lips, and Lisa’s hands, Lisa’s taste on her tongue, and the heat of her gentle breaths in her mouth.

Ria felt a weight lifting from her. It was as though the air in the room was lighter, a fog she hadn’t known was suffocating her dispersing in the blink of an eye. Finally, she saw things clearly.

Pulling away, she slumped back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. She couldn’t allow herself to get distracted from the plan. This had been step-one, after all. Now, she could focus on her mission.

 

*

 

Lisa emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel around her bust, another wrapping her hair. Ria splayed out contentedly across the bed, the sheet draping her hip. During Lisa’s brief shower, she’d activated the wire, the mic protruding subtly from her bag’s zipped compartment beside the bed. She’d need to be careful about what she said so as not to inadvertently reveal their recent activities.

When Lisa climbed into bed, she snuggled in close, pressing her nose to Ria’s.

“I want to tell you something,” Ria said. Lisa entwined her fingers with hers, waiting for her to continue. “Remember our deal?” When Lisa nodded, Ria added: “It’s time I came clean.”

“You don’t have to just because we—” Ria cut her off with a kiss. Too close.

“I know, but I feel like we’re at a point in our relationship where I can be completely honest with you.”

Lisa’s eyes glistened in the dim light, her hand idling over Ria’s knuckles beneath the sheet. Ria’s words didn’t seem to worry her; if they did, she hid it well. After Ria confessed Rachel’s lies—the results of hours spent concocting the perfect sob story—she hoped they’d move Lisa to share her secrets too. This could be the last chance, so if she didn’t take the bait, Ria would encourage her to. What did she have to lose?

“Go on,” Lisa said, a smile twitching across her mouth.

“So, last year I was with this girl,” —she inhaled, affecting the best worried expression she could to spill her character’s tragic backstory— “and—” Lisa’s cell rang on the nightstand, vibrating loudly against the wood.

“Sorry!” Lisa turned away and checked the screen. “It’s work. I’ve got to take this.” She got up quickly, taking the phone into the bathroom, and closed the door. The intimate bubble of the moment burst, leaving Ria wondering if she could recreate it.

She waited in silence. Lisa’s hushed voice crept under the door, not quite loud enough to make out. If she didn’t confess tonight, it was over. Lisa would be far too busy tomorrow with the deal’s final arrangements to spend time with her girlfriend. Ria tried not to think about how little time remained for them, quelling the impending hollow in her chest by appreciating her current position: in Lisa’s bed, surrounded by sheets that smelled of their love-making, body and mind worn-out from just that—happy.

When the bathroom door opened again, Lisa was naked, her hair hanging in damp tresses over her breasts.

“I have to go out. I’m sorry.”

Opening her drawer, she pulled out some fresh underwear and donned it quickly in the semi-darkness. She plucked her dress up from where Ria had thrown it. Before she slipped it back on, Ria watched the streetlights’ orange glow lighting her form through the windows, accentuating her curves.

“Where are you going?” Ria asked.

“Work.”

“Can’t you get someone else to go?” When Lisa gave no response, Ria added, “You are the boss after all.”

Lisa shook her head, ignoring Ria’s probing.

“What can be so important that you have to go right now?” At Lisa’s sharp look, Ria crawled to the edge of the bed, imploring with her eyes. “Don’t go. Stay with me.” She shouldn’t do this. She couldn’t stop the deal from happening, even if she wanted to.

“I have to go.”

Rolling onto her back, she watched Lisa wriggle into the dress, sliding it up over her shoulders. “When will you be back?”

“Not long, hopefully. Do me up?”

Sitting up, Ria zipped Lisa’s dress to the top and kissed her nape. “I didn’t get to finish my story,” she whispered, trailing a hand over Lisa’s waist before she stepped away.

“I know, I’m sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow, promise.” Leaning down, she kissed Ria’s cheek, her lips lingering for a moment. She inhaled against her skin, the sound almost sad, before disappearing through the door.

Ria listened to her collecting her bag and keys in the other room, the front door closing. Then, the apartment was silent. She rolled onto her side, fumbling in her bag for the wire to turn it off. Tomorrow morning, she’d attach it to her person for the last time, for one last try.

 

*

 

The jingle of keys at the front door sounded just in time to stop Ria pouring milk over her cereal. Johnson had probably messaged her, warning of Lisa’s return, but her cell had been off all day.

“Morning, babe” Lisa chirped, striding into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?” Despite being up all night, and most of the morning come to think of it, she looked immaculate. How did she do it? Though, with her plans for this evening, she’d be running on adrenaline.

“Hey.” Ria held out her arms, smiling as Lisa walked into them. She hugged her tight. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too. I’m sorry I’m late. Want to grab lunch?”

Ria swept the hair at Lisa’s temple behind her ear. “I’d rather stay in bed with you all day.”

These final hours were her last chance to get what she wanted—well, what Vice wanted; she’d gotten what _she_ wanted last night. Ria had attached her wire before she’d stepped out of Lisa’s bed, concealing it along her bra’s underwire in anticipation of wandering hands.

“Thought any more about our vacation?” Lisa asked, her voice muffled in Ria’s hoody.

She had thought about it. Despite knowing it could never happen, she’d imagined it: driving cross-country, the wind whipping through Lisa’s hair, getting away from all of this.

“Yeah.” Moving her cereal bowl out of the way, she hoisted Lisa up onto the kitchen counter and shuffled into the space between her knees. “I can’t wait.” She leaned in close and kissed her softly, both hands sliding around her waist. It was a perfect moment, another slice of heaven she could lose herself in, but a tiny voice in the back of her head, her voice, reminded her to focus.

“So, where were you last night?”

Lisa’s expression hardened. “I told you.”

“But why did you have to stay so late? I was waiting all night…” After how they’d spent last night, she could afford to be more assertive.

“Ria,” Lisa warned, with that same tone she had whenever Spellbound came up.

“I was worried. What were you doing?”

Lisa shoved her away abruptly, getting down from the counter and storming into the living room. Ria followed. The force of Lisa’s push gave her a rush of confidence; Lisa had never been that physical before. “Am I not allowed to be worried?”

Crossing the room, Lisa went into the bathroom and slammed the door. As the lock clunked, Ria came and stood outside. “Why are you being like this?”

“You promised,” Lisa said, barely audible.

“Yeah, but I can only take so much of this secrecy.” She pressed her forehead against the wood, raising her voice. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Exasperated, Lisa called back, “Leave me alone!”

“Are you seeing someone else? Is that it?” Instead of the angry response she expected, there was only silence. Ria slammed her fist hard against the wood; the door shook on its hinges, the sound echoing from the bathroom tiles. If Lisa was fired up, put on the spot, she might crack, say something she’d later regret. One could hope. “Let me in! Open the fucking door!”

“Go away!” Lisa screamed. Her voice shook like she was on the verge of tears. A few more pushes and, hopefully, she’d break.

“What’s your problem? I asked you a fucking question.”

The lock sounded, and the door flew open. Lisa pushed past Ria in the doorway, her jaw clenched, and charged into the bedroom. “Go home, Ria. I want you to leave, _now_.”

“Why won’t you answer me?” Ria followed her again, catching her bag as Lisa threw it at her. “Lisa!” Lisa ignored her, storming past, but Ria grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Fucking listen to me a moment.”

“No! You don’t get to talk to me like that, ever.”

“Like what? Asking you a simple question? Don’t make this out to be something it’s not!”

Grabbing Ria’s jacket from the sofa, Lisa pushed it into her hands before dragging her to the front door. Opening it, she pushed Ria out into the hallway.

“You know, the silent treatment is only making me think the worst,” Ria said, turning to face her. With wide eyes, she spoke calmly, almost pleading. “I just want you to be straight with me for once, tell me the truth.”

“Well, be careful what you wish for.”

Lisa slammed the door in her face.

 

*

 

Ria’s messages to Lisa remained unread. Harris told her to stay put; it was best for her to keep away from everything once the deal was set in motion. He’d congratulated her on the mission, but Ria knew it hadn’t come from the heart—without a confession, Lisa might easily get off on a technicality.

Back in Rachel’s apartment, Ria decided to start packing. Not everything, as there was a chance Lisa would turn up again, but she might as well get a head start. A team would clear everything, but there were a few items she wanted to keep: some of Lisa’s gifts, the brass dog she’d ended up liking. She watered the tulips, too.

In these last hours, she should have spent time shaking Rachel off, getting her head back in the game. There was paperwork to do, and nothing would get her mind back on track better than paperwork. But she couldn’t face it, didn’t want to. Being someone else was cathartic. Rachel had no responsibilities, no shameful memories—she lived in the moment. She didn’t have to prove herself. Rachel didn’t have to follow any rules. Rachel _hadn’t_ followed the rules…

Ria knew the guilt of what she’d done would get to her soon, and she’d worry herself stupid about someone finding out. If Lisa was clever—and she was—she’d mention it in her trial. For now, she had to forget that.

Scrolling through pictures of Lisa on her cell, re-reading her old messages, Ria finished the last shot of her whiskey. As Rachel, she basked in the wonderful memories of the last three weeks, warmth spreading through her chest at the possibility of it all, of being loved, of meaning something to someone. As Ria, she sobbed into her pillow, aware it was over.


	6. Chapter 6

The police radio hissed, Hernandez’s voice coming through the speaker beside her on the bed. The deal was done. Money had changed hands. His team would arrest Butcher shortly, confiscate the Gold; SWAT would take Spellbound on once they had it.

Ria’s cell buzzed. Harris.

_I know you’ll want to see her in cuffs. I’m sending Johnson to pick you up._

Leaping up from the bed, Ria pulled herself together. Throwing on a coat and some shoes, she noticed her heart racing. She’d expected to spend the evening cut off from the rest of her team, only listening to the excitement through the radio.

Her cell buzzed again. Johnson this time.

_I’m outside._

Through the window, she saw Johnson’s car parked across the street. It would be strange to be in his presence, speaking to him face-to-face after weeks of communicating via text, knowing he was trailing her but pretending not to. Locking up, she hurried down the stairs, brimming with nervous energy. Within the hour, Lisa would know the truth; the bubble would burst, and Rachel would be gone for good.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, both rear doors to a car parked on her side of the street opened. Two burly men got out, serious expressions on their faces. She knew them. How did she know them?

“Rachel Smith?” one of them asked.

The pair crowded in on her, towering over her.

“What’s it to you?”

They were bouncers from Spellbound. She’d seen them during her time in surveillance, photographed them as known associates of Lisa. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“We’re armed. If you don’t want to get hurt, come with us.”

Ria swallowed, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach. Johnson was on the other side of the road; he’d witness this. Her wire would’ve picked up the threat, too. Then there was the GPS on her cell. None of that stopped her being afraid.

The professional in her remembered her training—remain calm, remain observant, cooperate. 

“Who sent you?” If they said Lisa’s name, that would be evidence against her: inciting assault, attempted kidnapping, and whatever else she had planned for her. The flicker of fear in her gut turned to excitement.

“Don’t ask questions. Just get in the car.”

One of them shoved her towards the open door. She climbed inside.

 

*

 

She’d expected Spellbound would be the destination. The distant, thumping bass as they pulled her from the car confirmed it.

The bouncers forced her to wear a fabric bag over her head on the journey—scare tactics. As they led her inside, the club’s colorful lights and piercing-white strobe seeped through the thin material, disorienting her. The air was thick and scented, a combination of fragrant vaping smoke and an acrid chemical odor she recognized all too well.

Ria wasn’t afraid anymore. The SWAT team would arrive soon. Johnson would’ve tipped them off about the kidnap. They’d be following, ensuring her safety, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The knowledge made her brave; it had made her brave in the car, and it made her brave under Spellbound’s roof. When the men manhandled her, dragging her by the scruff of her shirt, she let them without a struggle.

The bag ripped away from her eyes as they approached the dancefloor. Hauled through the crowd of dancers, Ria realized she’d never been inside Lisa’s club before. All this time watching her and she’d never seen the interior. Some of the clubbers breathed the trademark golden smoke of Lisa’s concoction. Ria couldn’t help but smile as she passed—they’d be arrested soon, each of them a nail in Lisa’s coffin. Adrenaline roared in her ears. She remained composed, hyperaware of her surroundings.

Seemingly at her destination, the bouncers handed her to another man guarding a door off to the side of the dancefloor. She had some idea of what to expect on the other side. He shoved her through the door, closing it behind her.

The relative silence of the room made Ria’s ears ring.

Lisa sat at a table in the center, her feet kicked up on top, queen of her territory. Beside her lay an open case of Gold vials, displayed like a museum exhibit. She held an impressive wad of bills—Butcher’s money from the deal, presumably. Without looking up, she leafed through a few; this was all for effect, to get a reaction. It was a little too theatrical for Ria’s taste. She waited for Lisa to speak, her hands in her pockets.

“Hi, babe,” Lisa said, eyes fixed on the money. When Ria didn’t answer, she sat up sharply and tossed the cash onto the table. Leaning forward in her chair, she threw up her hands and glared at Ria like she was to blame for this display— _you wanted it, you got it_.

“This is where I’ve been,” she said casually, giving Ria a once-over. “Do you still want me?”

Ria drew in a deep breath, grounding herself in the moment and getting into the mindset of Rachel again. “Dealing drugs? That’s your big secret?” If Lisa answered in the affirmative, Ria had won.

“Yes.”

Lowering her head, Ria closed her eyes to contain herself. She’d done it. All these weeks and she finally had a confession, in the last minutes, the last _seconds_. Perhaps she didn’t have enough faith in herself.

Lisa stared up at her, a slight vulnerability in her expression. She wanted a response. “This is me.”

From somewhere beyond the thick door came a distant, high-pitched scream. It was time to tell Lisa the truth, and the real truth this time.

Looking her in the eye, Ria replied as calm as anything: “I know.”

As the SWAT team burst through the door, Ria stood still and let them pass. The club’s music had stopped, the only sounds from the dancefloor the shouted commands of the officers and more screams. Lisa raised her hands in surrender immediately, terrified.

“Ria?”

Two officers dragged Lisa from her chair, forcing her arms behind her back. For a moment the length of a strobe flash, Ria saw the Lisa Adams from before the undercover—a woman she despised. At the beginning of all this, she’d looked forward to seeing this menace to society treated as the criminal she was. As they dragged Lisa past, Ria stood like a statue, too overcome with emotion to speak or move. The betrayed look on her face, edging on horrified, hurt like hell. The image seared itself onto Ria’s retinas as she looked away, unable to watch her being led out.

She had what she wanted. Inhaling deeply, she repeated it in her head: you’ve done it, it’s over. You’ve done it. It’s over…

Her hands trembled in her pockets.

Lisa screamed Ria’s name from the dancefloor, the sound cutting through the commotion and straight into Lisa’s chest.

Why didn’t it feel like a victory?

 

*

 

The article Ria imagined about Lisa’s arrest made the front page.

Harris slapped a copy onto her desk, patting her back. “She’ll get at least twenty years, mark my words. Brilliant work, Mae.”

It still felt strange to hear that name. Everything about being back at work did. It wasn’t only being back at her desk, it was returning to her old apartment—it didn’t feel like hers anymore—remembering to wear her badge, working shifts instead of living between meetings with Lisa. She had to stop calling her that: she was Adams here.

Deception came hand in hand with undercover work. Lying to Lisa was a given, expected; lying to her department was different. She’d have to carry her secret forever: she’d fallen for a criminal, and she’d slept with a suspect. In pretending to be someone else, her personal integrity had taken a direct hit. Now she had to clean up the damage.

She couldn’t enjoy the newfound respect of her colleagues. Every congratulatory pat on her shoulder felt like a knife in the gut, inching deeper each time. They didn’t know what she’d done to get results. When she spoke about the case, she constantly worried she’d slip up, confess by accident. It was best to say nothing.

If Lisa claimed herself a victim of sexual impropriety from a police officer, Ria’s only choice was denial. She’d swear on the Bible that she’d followed regulations to the letter, lie again, with more than her job on the line. There was no evidence of their encounter. The only evidence that mattered were the cold, inculpatory facts: Adams was a devious criminal who’d endangered the lives of hundreds. That number would be higher, too, if her final deal hadn't been intercepted.

It was a different kind of evidence, the kind that wouldn’t stand up in court, that burnt Ria up inside. Lisa’s desperation to make money for her mother’s care had sent her down a dark path that could only lead to one place: a cell. Love motivated her to walk it, but every step had been hard taken—she knew she was in the wrong. Her shame had eaten away at her until her only coping method was blocking it out. But none of that mattered. On paper, a crime was a crime.

Ria felt no better than Lisa as she stared at the newspaper, unable to take the words in, or the picture of Lisa in cuffs. Regardless of the number of times she’d seen her face—and she knew it intimately now—it had never hurt like this.

Pushing the paper to the edge of her desk, she let it fall into the trash.


End file.
